Alan M. Clarke - Dark Tales

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Angeline Hawkes-Craig.

First Published in Return of X the Unknown. Reprinted by permission of the

author.

First Published in Demensions-Doorways to Science Fiction and Fantasy, 2003.

Reprinted by permission of the author.

First Published in Pangaia Magazine, Summer 2004. Reprinted by permission of

the author.

Justice. First Published in The Late Late Show, 2004. Reprinted by permission of

the author.

Published in Season in the Night, July 2004. Reprinted by permission of the

author.

Published in KeenSF, March 1997. Reprinted by permission of the author.

First published in Deathgrip: Legacy of Terror, 2003. Reprinted by permission of

the author.

McAbee. First Published in Challenging Destiny, April1999. Reprinted by

permission of the author.

Published in Dark Angel Rising, February 2003. Reprinted by permission of the

author.

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A LESSON IN THERAPY ?V!KDBIFKB(>THBP#O>FD  

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COLD WAR ?V2B?B@@>-3BKBPB  

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THE PERFECT HOMBURG ?V2L?(RKQBO  

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LEGENDS REBORN ?V#>OLI(FDEQPELB 

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HALLOWEEN EVERLASTING ?V->OH*RPQF@B 

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THE PRAWN ?V*>JBP2#>FK 

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AFTERLIFE ?V+>OBK3>KAIBO 



THE FLIBBERTIGIBBET ?V3E>RK*BCCOBV 



WITH MURDEROUS INTENT?V+'-@!?BB 



MARA'S ROOM ?V*>JBP3$LOO 

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Angeline Hawkes-Craig received a B.A. in Composite English Language Arts in 1991

from East Texas State University. She is a member of HWA and has publication

credits dating from 1981. Scrybe Press will reprint her Speculative fiction collection,

MOMENTO MORI, in 2005. THE COMMANDMENTS, a Horror fiction collection, is

slated for publication by Nocturne Press as a signed, limited edition in Summer

2005. Recently, Naked Snake Press published Angeline’s Horror/Thriller chapbook,

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY.

He had found her in the parking garage outside of his apartment. He wasn’t quite

sure how long she had been gone, or where she had gone; but she was dripping wet.

Her thin summer nightgown clung to her like a transparent second skin. Lucky for her,

she hadn’t wandered too far—who was to say whether or not she would have

returned in this storm, in this night, in this city.

He helped her up, dazed and weak, cradling her gently and cooing

reassurances in her ear. These sleepless nights for him and sleep-filled nights for her

had all begun a month ago when she insisted on going to that damn hypnotist

crackpot, she referred to as a doctor. She said she was seeking inner peace. To get

in touch with her subconscious or some bullshit like that. Whatever had happened to

good old-fashioned religion? What was all this new age mumbo jumbo shit anyway? It

messed with people’s minds, that’s all it did.

She walked one foot in front of the other, still mesmerized by whatever dreams

danced through her mind. He pushed the hair out of her face, her eyes were frozen,

unblinking, unchanging.

He heard the rustle of pigeon feathers overhead in the cement eaves and

glanced up. Black wings outstretched swooped past him and dived deeply, plunging

down and soaring out into the night.

“What the hell?” he gasped, huddled over hear against the wall. “Damn bat!”

She didn’t blink. She didn’t flinch.

“I’ll report it to the maintenance man in the morning, don’t worry,” he said to her

as if she was listening. He helped her onto the elevator and the door closed.

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He made some herbal tea for her and dressed her in a dry gown. He watched

the rain drip down in rivets on the pane; he watched the night-lights and cars down

below in the street.

“I was sleepwalking again?” she asked slowly, rubbing her eyes.

He rushed over to her.

“Yes. Damn it! This is growing old very fast! What the hell do you think you were

doing out there? This has got to stop, Elise! It has got to stop.”

“I’ve tried. It’s not my fault!”

“Bullshit. It’s all your fault. All of this crap wouldn’t be happening if you had

screwed around with your mind. I want you to stop seeing that, that, that quack Dr.

Whatever-his-name-is.”

“Dr. Rudov. Alex, we have already talked about this…”

“…and you refuse to listen to reason, for god’s sake! Elise, this has gone on for

a month now! Every damn night for an entire damn month.”

“What makes you think it will all stop if I quit seeing the doctor?” Elise sipped

her tea sluggishly, as if she were still entranced.

“It didn’t start until you started these ‘treatments’,” Alex mocked her.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning. I feel drained.” Elise got up and walked

weakly to the bedroom.

Alex picked up Elise’s cup and put it in the sink and turned out the kitchen light.

The next morning, Elise was chipper and exuberantly getting ready for work.

She was a seamstress for a fashion designer. He looked at her own clothing. Old, by

modern standards. She preferred laces and fabrics cut in styles of a more old-

fashioned persuasion. Elise would have been just at home 100, 200 years ago as she

was now.

Alex checked his watch, grabbed his briefcase and kissed Elise hurriedly.

“See you tonight,” he called over his shoulder.

When he came home, Elise had already put supper on the table. No meat

again. Another quirk she had picked up from that Dr. Rudov or whatever the hell his

name was. “Cleansing for the body and soul” Elise had said. Alex sighed, but didn’t

feel like arguing.

“I have some great news!” Elise sang while pouring the wine into the goblets.

“Oh?” Alex kicked off his loafers.

“I’ve rented a fantastic house in the country for the summer. It’s terrific, really!

Got a great deal, you’ve been saving up all that vacation time, so I thought maybe we

could use a change.” Elise tossed the salad.

“I don’t know. The whole summer?” Alex crunched on a carrot.

“It will be great! It’s a huge, old stone house. Looks like something straight out

of an old movie! It’s roomy, and there’s plenty of room if we want to invite some

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people up. Say yes, please! Please!” Elise danced around his chair. He couldn’t

remember the last time he had seen her so happy.

“Okay. Okay. We’ll go. When do we leave?” Alex laughed at her.

“Next week!” she chirped. She sat down but only nibbled at her food. He

couldn’t remember the last time he saw her eat a full meal either.

“I suppose it would be good to get away for awhile.” Alex poured salad dressing

over his salad.

“It’ll be fun!” Elise smiled seductively.

* * * *

When the car pulled up to the old house, Alex was struck by the immenseness of it.

He had been stuck in that city and apartment for so long that he felt suddenly

suffocated and then set free. He breathed deeply. It was perfect, just like something

out of an old photograph. Elise in her billowing chiffon skirt, looked like she had

stepped out of that same old tintype.

The house was full of nooks and crannies just ripe to explore. A child could

entertain himself forever in a house like this! He found an old library and leafed

through the leather-bound books and sat down among a pile of the choice selections.

They were so old.

He had hardly realized that time had flown by so quickly! Suddenly, he heard

Elise calling him to dinner, her voice echoing down the halls.

He walked into the glowing dining room.

“I can’t believe what I found, it’s an 18th century,” Alex stopped in mid-sentence

when he looked up and saw Dr. Rudov seated at the table with a cold, thin-lipped

smiled on his face.

“We have company, Alex. Can you believe the doctor has a summerhouse right

over the hill behind our house? I won’t have to forego my therapy after all!” Elise

poured wine into the crystal stemware.

“That’s nice, good evening, Dr. Rudov.”

“Please. Call me Vladimir.”

“Vladimir it is then!” Alex tried to sound jovial and sat down in his chair.

Elise chatted away with old Vladimir hardly touching her food. Alex surveyed

every inch of the good doctor. He was a pale, muscular looking fellow in his late

forties, maybe. Alex couldn’t tell exactly. He was one of those odd ageless sorts who

had always looked the same throughout their life from infancy to the present. He wore

a satin trimmed tuxedo with tails—formal attire—as if he had expected a dinner

invitation. In his pocket, he withdrew, several times, a large, heavy gold pocket watch

on a gold fob chain. The watch was heavily engraved.

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“That’s quite an impressive watch you’ve got there, Doctor,” Alex attempted

small talk.

“You wish to see it?” Vladimir passed it over to Alex.

Alex turned it over in his hand. It was huge, fitting perfectly in his palm.

Comically, he envisioned the rappers and their huge clocks hung around their necks.

He flipped it open and inside was Rudov’s name in beautiful scrolled writing:

Count Vladimir Rudov, 1850.

“It is a family heirloom,” the doctor offered.

“It is beautiful.” Alex handed it back to him. “So, your name is an old family

name?”

“Yes, it is passed down every generation, as Elise tells me, your name is as

well?”

“Hmm. Yes. Alexander is my father and grandfather’s name. I’m afraid it doesn’t

go back quite as far as yours does.”

“Years do not matter. It is the respect that comes with the name that matters. A

good name is a priceless treasure,” the doctor slurred with a thick accent. Maybe this

guy wasn’t all bad after all.

Dr. Rudov stayed for a few hours and sipped brandy before the fire listening to

Elise and her excessive chatter. He never tired of her ranting. Always nodding and

smiling that same thin, colorless smile.

At last, he asked to be excused, and thanked both Alex and Elise, and then left.

Alex closed the door behind their guest.

“Did you know he had a summer house near this one?”

Elise squirmed a bit. “Well, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“I knew he lived here more than he stayed in the city, but I didn’t know he would

actually be here at the same time we were. But, I invited him for dinner when I heard.”

Elise smiled. “After all he is my doctor.”

“If you can call him that. Rather looks like a senile man who has taken to

wearing ridiculously antique clothes and prying around in other people’s minds.”

Elise threw her hands up in the air. “Oh! Alex, you are so jealous!”

“I am NOT jealous!”

“You are TOO!” Elise turned out the light and headed upstairs.

Alex dozed fitfully. He kept reassuring himself that they had come here for rest

and relaxation, to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Yet, he couldn’t

shake a constant uneasy feeling he had had ever since Elise announced her plans to

come here.

He dreamed. Dreamed heavily, deeper than he ever remembered dreaming

before; but he awoke screaming and in a puddle of sweat—soaked sheets—his pillow

stuck to his face and matted to his hair.

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“What is it, Alex?” Elise flipped on the light. “Are you okay?”

Alex sat up and looked around the room. It was empty except for the massive

pieces of furniture and the two of them.

“Are you okay?” Elise asked again, her cool hands on his flesh; her cold blue

eyes distant like the ocean.

“It was a dream. A horrible, bad dream,” Alex mumbled.

“Tell me about it?”

“No. No. Just go back to sleep.”

“They say if you tell the dream, it won’t happen again.” Elise smoothed his hair,

her cold fingertips icy against his sweaty brow.

“No. No. It’s nothing.” Alex punched his pillow and lay back down.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Elise turned out the light. Alex wasn’t sure. The dream was terrible. Those

horrible black wings that overshadowed and dived towards him in the parking garage

had hung over him like a black cloud in the dream. Soaring closer, closer like an

eagle after her prey. And, that bat soared through the open window into their room

hovering over Elise, and then in an instant the black wings transformed into the black

clad figure of Rudov who lingered over Elise—his cold hands upon her breast and his

lips upon her neck.

In the dream, Alex watched and Rudov turned and looked at him coldly, looked

into him, past him, and through him…and smiled that bloodless, thin smile, but his

lips were tainted with a thin film of blood—Elise’s blood.

Alex panted heavily as he tried to dispel the dream from his memory, but it hung

there heavily and darkly like the very bat in the dream.

In the morning, when Alex awoke, Elise was gone.

He found her at Dr. Rudov’s house out in the garden. The maid had let him in

and led him through a cluttered house full of musty books and artifacts that seemed

like they hadn’t been disturbed in centuries. She took him through two wide French

doors to a beautiful garden brimming with exotic flowers and lush roses.

“Alex!” Elise ran over to him, her yellow cotton dress billowing behind her, she

looked like a pale flower herself, all yellow and white.

“I woke up and you were gone. Why didn’t you leave a note?” Alex tried to

control the anger in his voice.

“I went for a walk and Dr. Rudov was doing the same. We just ran into each

other,” Elise said cheerfully.

“Oh, how convenient,” Alex mumbled barely audible.

“Excuse me?” Rudov asked.

“Uh, I was just thinking that your garden is magnificent,” Alex stumbled over the

words that covered how he really felt.

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“Yes. Thank you. I have over 150 types of flowers growing here. This house has

been in my family since before the colonies. One can grow a lot of flowers in that

allotment of time!” Rudov waved his hand in a sweeping arch of gesticulation. “Come,

I will show you the interior.”

Alex took Elise’s arm, wanting to say that she should be at home resting, she

looked so pale and thin, but followed Rudov obediently into the house.

The halls were crammed with strange and ordinary items. Old and foreign, new

and local. And, all over there was a peculiar odor, odd, stale, nearly a stench, but not

quite. Several incense burners of various shapes and forms that a maid tended to

covered it up well.

It was a cloudy day to begin with and now within this huge castle of a house,

Alex could hear rain beginning to come down like waves and wind banging shutters

somewhere in the house.

“All of this stuff must be worth a fortune!” Alex whispered to Elise.

“Ah, yes! A fortune, indeed! But, money is no match for the sentimental value I

place on each object in this house. Each object represents a memory, or perhaps, a

tale I heard as a boy from some relative.”

Alex blushed. He had not intended for his comment to be heard.

“I don’t like change. I don’t like to get rid of the old. Elise understands. She and I

are of the same breed. Wishing for a way to return to the past, clinging to clothes and

items from a different era, another time. We are of the same spirit, the same blood.”

Rudov rolled the word ‘blood’ off of his tongue with a hungry tone; somewhere in the

recesses of Alex’s mind he pictured a frog snatching a fly.

“Well, the house is magnificent! You must be really proud that your family has

kept it up so well,” Alex tried to sound pleasant. His comment seemed to break the

trance Rudov was in, staring at Elise like she was a delectable morsel to be savored.

“My family…shall we say, likes real estate? Houses in many countries are

among my assets.”

“I bet they’re all as beautiful as this one,” Elise purred.

“Well. I hate to break up the party, but I think we should get home before it

starts raining heavy again.” Alex took the temporary pause in the weather as an

escape from the dismal surroundings.

“But, you must come again soon to dine with me!”

“That would be fun!” Elise gave him a parting hug. Dr. Rudov pressed

something into her hands.

“Something to clear up the matter we discussed earlier, my dear.” Rudov smiled

that smile again.

Elise thanked him and ran to catch up with Alex.

“What did he give you?”

“Only a small book.” Elise slipped her hand into Alex’s. It was cold and clammy.

Alan M. Clarke - Dark Tales

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